Nuka Breaks - Free Stories with Every Nuka or Sarsaparilla Purchase
by CoffeeQuills
Summary: Based on the Fallout universe (thanks Bethesda) and characters from the web-series Nuka Break (thanks Wayside Creations, Zack Finfrock); a collection of fics ranging from K - T in any genre - character shots, fills, prompts, deeper reasonings and other random things that catch my fancy will appear.
1. What Is Family? - James

**What is Family?**

**Summary** – James's thoughts of Scarlettt and Ben, after the battle.

**Note** – Season 2, Episode 6 – after the battle but before Scarlettt and company leave the Lockre.

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"Get...our family...outta here!"

Closing his eyes, he could see Ben again – and hear that last raspy command that kept circling his head. James punched a big rock next to him, feeling slight satisfaction at the throbbing ache in his knuckles. Sure, he had gotten everyone out, that particular order had been fulfilled (twice at this point), but he knew, deep down in his soul, that there was an underlying, unspoken order to continue protecting their family. Family...

That word wasn't the problem, exactly. While he had been connected to Ben by blood, truthfully, in the Wastelands, blood was more a factor of living or dying than family ties nowadays. Just, how was he supposed to treat her if he didn't know what type of family Scarlett was?

Had there been a bud of romance, cut down before it bloomed? Was Scarlett a proto-Clem? Eventually, going feral aside, would Ben have had another ring, gently clinking on his chain?

James snorted. The trigger ring from a gun, maybe. Scarlett didn't seem the type to want fripperies, and a marriage ring would pale in comparison to a weapon made just for her trigger happy hands. Maybe even an energy weapon...but practicality didn't dismiss the idea of marriage, and what usually came with it. Scarlett. Naked. With a ghoul who was more like a father than a great great...

His mind went down that path for only a minute, but it was enough for him to shake his head quickly, running a hand through his short, curly hair.

"Eye bleach, dammit." He muttered, reaching for a cigarette. "And some brain bleach too, while I'm at it."

A flicker of light, then a deep, calming breath. There were other types of relationships too, he reminded himself – he didn't need to think of that particular one again for a bit, at least until his brain could stop supplying pictures to match.

Was Scarlett like a sister instead? One watched over by a protective, morbidly joking older brother? Not knowing her before, James wasn't sure if the snark and sarcasm had come before or after joining up with Twig and Ben. Well...Ben at any rate. Twig being sarcastic would be like meeting a Deathclaw who spoke both eloquently and elaborately.

But in Eastwood, she had been the one cheating at cards...and while card shaving didn't necessarily equate to sarcasm, the two did often go hand in hand. And she was too fluent in it to have picked it up recently...on the other other hand, she had known to give Ben space to talk with him when he had first appeared, even going so far as to hold back Twig, and that was a very sisterly gesture.

Or, could Ben have been more like a father? A replacement for Ron? James hadn't missed their reunion, even in the midst of grief – that pair were definitely father and daughter, even to the point where Ron had needed to outline what should be done after Ben had died, the correct path to walk on. Scarlett wouldn't have listened to Twig, let alone an unknown ranger who had held her back when Ben sacrificed himself. She had needed Ron, who had thankfully pierced Scarlett's despair so that she would finally listen to the rest of them.

Maybe it was something else entirely...the funny and crazy uncle who was always there to help you out?

Or...than this was a tiny flutter of a thought that grew along with the cigarette's ash...had Ben deliberately left it open? Using the word "family" instead of any other specific, relationship defining word?

James could be the older, protective, snarky brother.

James could be the protective, crazy, always-there-with-a-hand uncle.

James could be a father figure, guiding her, protecting her, showing her the right path.

James could be the romantic, friendly, protective boyfriend...or even husband, with time.

On the road beneath his vantage point, Scarlett, Larry, Twig and that other girl were walking up the trail. Reattaching his helmet, James angled his bit of broken mirror, giving a small grin as only Scarlett picked up on it.

He would catch up with them, maybe in a day or two. Heading in the direction of Goodsprings, from there he had already greased enough contacts that he would know whichever direction they would choose.

But for now, a descendent's task awaited him, with time aplenty to decide which way he wanted to go afterwards.

For once, he wouldn't be simply tracking or chasing. He would be making his own way.


	2. Not Anymore I Can't - Scar

**Not Anymore I Can't**

**Summary** – Inside Scar's mind after her rescue (and the consequences thereof)

**Note** – Season 2, Episode 6 – after Scarlett reunites with Ron and before the main battle with Leon.

**Warning –** cussing, slightly graphic images of death

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I can't ask you to fight for me". Scarlettt choked out the words, her heart clenching in fear and shock. The three men looked back at her impassively – it should have been four.

"You never had to." Twig said softly, his brown, puppy dog eyes sad. With what, Scar didn't know, and she couldn't ask right now _– was it sadness that she had thought she needed to ask? - sadness that a fight was brewing and that people, people they knew, would die? - sadness that Ben was already one of the dead, because of her_?

She only knew that her eyes mirrored his, with no scratchy voice to laugh it away, teasing about how fragile Smoothskins were.

Ron said something about the Nuka Quantum Twig was holding, but the words were just sounds. Scar barely noticed when Twig ran off, eyes alight.

"...let's die in style." Ben had said, after turning Larry lose and letting him limp away. _Was style being stabbed like a shishkebab of iguana bits_?

From what seemed like another world, Leon's voice wormed its way through the door and into her brain – threatening the Lockre and what remained of her family.

She saw the Ranger briefly roll his eyes, and the watery glint previously in them changed to hardened chips of ice.

"God! Am I the only one who's just gettin' fuckin' sick of that guy?!"

_No. Nonononononono. Not again. They can't, he can't...no one else, please!_

"Hell no." Rumbled Ron in his soft, velvet voice, a sound she had been secretly missing ever since he had disappeared one morning.

_They can't die, please, if there every was, is, or will be a God, they can't die. Not Ron, her savior and mentor. Not Twig, her innocent, younger brother. Her heart can't if..._

She met the Ranger's eyes and even as she saw him standing in front of her, another part of her mind blew off his head and had him slumping to the ground. A smaller part stabbed him in the ribs. Miniscule bits of her brain kept killing him – knife, machete, gun, sniper rifle, bomb...

_Please, not even him, the newest one._ She didn't really know him yet, but someone who was connected to Ben and didn't seem ready to sell them out _fuckin' Larry_...this was a man she would be happy to know. If the future let it happen.

The snap and hiss of the Ranger reconnecting his helmet drew her attention toward him, away from her frantic, murderous thoughts. And before Raz opened the door and they all went charging out, weapons drawn – that was the unspoken question in the room.

_What future will we hold after this?_


	3. Of Chains and Bindings - Ben

**Of Chains and Bindings**

**Summary** – Ben's POV – this is not the first time that he's been tied up and it probably won't be the last; a look inside his mind while he frees himself from the Ranger's bindings.

**Note** – Season 2 Episode 3 – After the fight between the Ranger and the Scorpion

**Warning –** cussing, one instance of implied sex / sexual reactions

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series.

* * *

Ben unsteadily knelt down to retrieve the dropped knife, careful not to catch any of his rough skin on the blade as he quickly started sawing through the tight cords. It was a fluid, practiced movement - this was not the first time he had been tied up, nor would it probably be the last, but each and every time seemed to be quicker at eroding what was left of his sanity.

The first time actually hadn't been the worst, even though it had been the longest, logging in at just over a week in chains. Immediately after his body had stopped changing and he had still felt weak, lying alone in an abandoned house while trying to regain his strength, a traveling group had figured out someone was living there. They ambushed him for his meager supplies, using the chains from several abandoned bicycles nearby to tie him hands to feet. When they found out that the radiation from the metal chains healed him (a surprise to all of them after what the radiation had already done to his body), it had become more of a trade than theft - they had given him all of their irradiated food and he had gladly given over what remained of the untainted bits he had been hoarding. The morning that they had moved on, one young man had been ordered to stay behind, untie him, apologize, and explain...though not necessarily in that order. Ben apparently hadn't been the first person they had seen looking like he did, but he had been the first one who hadn't attacked them on sight, and since they couldn't afford to lose anymore people or goods, they had used the opportunity to make sure that he wouldn't be able to hurt them. After seeing some feral ghouls attack another, unluckier wandering group later on, Ben let go of any lingering resentment. Thankfully ghouls didn't attack ghouls, and those people hadn't really hurt him. It had even been nice for a little while, not being so alone.

Unlike the second time. Another roaming group, as cruel as the first one had been kind. They and Ben had come upon an intact restaurant simultaneously, but there would be no trading or sharing. After catching him off guard and tying him to a decorative entrance column, they ransacked the place, ending with a celebration outside on the deadened lawn hours later. Most of the details of those nights were happily a part of Ben's missing memory, but he could still feel his anger from when they drank and ate in front of him without giving him anything, his embarrassment from when the free flowing liquor made exhibitionist group sex a great idea, and the following shame from when his body showed interest. Thankfully they didn't want to touch him anymore than they had to, so they didn't directly do anything to him - which unfortunately included untying him when they left 3 days later. If it weren't for a fellow ghoul, exploring the area with pipe-dreams of food, he'd probably still be there today, a pile of bones bleached in the sun.

The third time was very different, years removed from the first two. This was the beginning of a more dangerous period in the Mojave, when many of the people left were bastards and the good guys were getting their asses handed to them. There were points when Ben honestly considered seeing if the rumored ghoul city in the ruins of DC was true - less now for the novelty and more for the safety. He had been to the Capitol Wasteland before, but had dismissed it as a suicide mission trying to get to it. But this time...it had been a single woman, at least in the beginning, that brought him down. He had thought her a fool to be crying on the edge of the road, open for anyone to attack, but he was the bigger fool for stopping and trying to help. Her gang jumped him, hobbling his legs so he couldn't run or kick, and when he woke up he was tied to a line of seven other miserable ghouls.

They were slaves, he had been haughtily informed by the woman. Or if that didn't suit him, he could be dead. This group didn't have a problem with touching them - beatings were normal and given out for any slight infraction, real or imagined. Irradiated water was intermittently poured over open wounds, so that while they were in constant agony, no one would actually die. In the five longest days of Ben's life as a ghoul, he saw what humanity had sunk to and began to work on his stealth. Pain was the best teacher, and at the end of the fifth day he and several others were running free; dodging bullets, hiding from the gang and sometimes being recaptured, but mostly free. Ben had seen Ethel and Doris caught while Steve was shot point blank in the head several times - something he never wanted to think about again was why the women ghouls were more valuable than the men.

After that he tired of counting the number of times he was tied up, and began to count the curves and lines of knots. Years of practice made him sneakier than ever, and he worked at it even more so that in about 95% of situations, he could turn it to his advantage before or after being tied up.

Until a random ranger had bound his arms - that 5% was a bitch.

Ben frantically threw the leathers far, far away from him with a muffled oath. When all this crap was over, he and the ranger were going to have a little gun-to-head chat about why tying him up was a such bad idea...after he made sure the bastard was still breathing. It would be kind of hard threatening a corpse.

He strode over to where the Ranger lay on his back and Ben finally saw the blood dripping from the wound the Scorpion had inflicted.

"Hooooleey Jesus."


	4. History's Tricks - James

**History's Tricks**

**Summary** – Seeing the danger, knowing what will happen, James follows Ben's path.

**Note** – Season 2, Episode 6 – in the midst of the grand battle

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series(but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"You're my family. The last of it." James remembered saying to Ben, after sharing with him what the fate of his Vault would have been minus Clem and her teachings. "Nothin' else matters."

And that was true, in a sense. Water didn't matter - it could be found with hard work, even the purified kind. Food was the same, and from the stories he had heard it was much easier to survive out here in the Mojave than in the Capital Wasteland. Family though - through blood or other ties - family always mattered. Once you lost someone you could never get them back again, and everyone in the Wasteland knew that intimately...although there were sometimes rare exceptions, like when he thankfully had found Bill's daughter alive.

But then, a little bit after that conversation with Ben, James had seen the strength only heard about before in Vault 7 - it had been handed down from generation to generation, becoming almost mythical in proportions with each repetition because time and time again Benjamin and Clem's story had been told to captive audiences, usually with the speakers highlighting certain actions or emotions to further their own agendas of course, but always with Benjamin willingly and diplomatically giving up his spot for Clem. _Hah! Wouldn't the overseer have an aneurism if he knew the truth!_

And honestly, even when growing up in a safe and stable environment conductive to the idea of selflessness, James couldn't imagine the people he knew calmly going off to die in a nuclear explosion, especially if earlier they had held the much coveted sanctuary in one of the impossibly sought after vaults. They would have fought tooth and nail to get a foot in the door, sneaking in if at all possible, to avoid their waiting fate. And if their own Clem had to be sacrificed, then so be it.

The fact that Ben had done just that, had walked away from safety to face a nuclear explosion alone - there was strength there that was slightly beyond frightening, to be honest.

And he, James Eldridge, had just seen Ben mere minutes before sacrifice himself once again, this time knowing full well what his end would be. _Though he probably "knew" what was going to happen when the bombs fell and had been extremely surprised when ghoulification had occurred instead._

But now that presence was gone - Ben's luck having been all used up the first time, over 150 years ago, with nothing left to live through this smaller, more personal apocalypse.

And that was the end of that - until later, when History repeated herself for the third time with the same family.

James knew that pre-war people always complained about Mother Nature bein' a bitch, but he figured that title should belong solely to History, who carried a bigger stick liberally laced with irony.

In front of him was Scarlett, her arms trapped at her sides and the business end of the gun pointing harmlessly away, being pulled away from combat like a toy. Captured. Again. Fuckin' crazy Leon.

Behind him was a groggy goon, down but not out, and pullin' himself to his feet quicker inch by inch. The gas mask wearing man had held a knife earlier, but he could have changed weapons. Gun? Blade? Something poisoned again?

There would be no second chance, no time to ready himself if he didn't take care of the guy now...but then Scarlett could be out of range, back in Leon's arms and making Ben's sacrifice worthless.

A single snide side thought amidst all this - _he was gonna die by some nameless mook? Pathetic._

_Decide. Now. No time._  
_No hesitation. Choose._  
_No time. Now. Decide._

Seconds later, his small hatchet had finished its air acrobatics and thunked solidly into the head of Scar's attacker, spraying blood everywhere - and then he unabashedly screamed, his voice echoing along with the nuclear fire that was now raging along his already hateful torso. Twisting painfully, he drew his gun from its holster, managing to shoot himself free from Leon's goon before dropping to the dusty ground, flat on his back. Spots of rapidly blurring gray obliterated the golden desert before him, taking him far from the fight, the Mojave and most of his cares - although a part of his fighting spirit still sought Leon's death by his hand. An eye for an eye, blood for blood.

Somehow, enough of him stayed coherent to hear something above the rattles of bullets and screams of pain. Footsteps. A gentle raspy sensation, at odds against all else felt so far, as his gun was taken from his slack hand. Someone was standing above him, he could tell by the slightly blacker background against those annoying circles, and while he wasn't sure who, he could take a guess.

_Death by gun then_ \- and his own at that. Ben would laugh at the irony, but James felt there was a sense of justice in it, after killing so many others _and not just in this fight_. If he had any regrets, it was waiting so long before finding Ben - and not being able to personally slit Leon's throat. He could place bets on one of the others doing it though, the odds were good - Ron, Scar, Raz...maybe even Twig if the Vault dweller had any amount of luck.

But before a bullet would burrow into his skull like a frightened molerat, and darkness would permanently claim him...there was pride, a feeling of satisfaction that he too, had that same great strength Ben had possessed.

Calmness settled over him like a warm blanket, blackness stole quietly up on him, and James Eldridge lost his tenuous hold on consciousness with a faint, proud smile, waiting for a death that never came.

History had always enjoyed her little tricks.


	5. Talking to a Corpse - James

**Talking to a Corpse**

**Summary** – James can finally have a chat with Ben...

**Note** – After Season 2 Episode 6; AU

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"I grew up with you Ben." James said as his makeshift shovel broke into the crusty earth. Placed within easy reach next to him were his weapons, his helmet and the outermost of his coat - while normally he wouldn't think of removing them, for his current task they would only get in the way.

"Day in, day out at the Vault - and of course, our family more than the rest. Growin' up, we were never compared to others, just you. 'Benjamin would never do that.' mom would say. Or 'Benjamin would share his toys.' when I didn't share with my siblings."

Another shovelful - another grunt of effort. His throat burned from the windy sand.

"I know. You're gone, so why am I botherin' to talk?"

James put down his shovel to wrestle a huge rock out of the way. Then the rhythmic scraping started up again.

"It's just that, I was so interested in you that I didn't really tell you about me. Us. Your family. Or at least, what's left of it. I'll try to stick to the happier things though."

A couple more shovels of thankfully loose dirt, although the smaller rocks he kept striking were more than a little annoying.

"Our vault had three unofficial holidays. Your birthday, yours and Clem's wedding day, and the day that you got her into the vault. That was "Giver Day". All us Vaulties went around to others and sacrificed somethin'- usually food."

A snicker.

"There was a time I sacrificed my pride to publicly proclaim my love for Debbie Ryans. While all the adults approved of the non-item gesture, thinkin' it more like how you would have acted, Debbie broke my arm later for embarrassin' her. 'By accident' of course."

More dirt went flying.

"After that, I stuck to food. That broken arm almost interfered with me leavin' the Vault, but thankfully I was able to persuade Mr. Williams to pick me over that jackass Sam White. Having your name helped, of course. I honestly think that Sam never really had a chance against an Eldridge."

The hole was deeper now, and wider, but still not quite enough. James didn't want anyone, or anything, to think of gave robbing.

"We used to have history lessons, like all the other Vaults I'm sure, but later on, when it became clear that the world was never going to go back to normal, they became more and more centered on you - psychology replaced geography, ethics / morals took over religion. Other than that, school was mostly the same - G.O.A.T.s and all that shit. I was supposed to be a security guard, but since our Vault was opening that year, it became an explorer position."

James stopped for a few moments, lost back in the blinding light of leaving Vault 7.

"Oh, and med classes thanks to Clem. After they saw what a big bullet they had actually managed to dodge, what with having no medical personnel, our Vault swung the other way and made the knowledge mandatory. Basics at least for each person, but in the vault there's actually another test after the G.O.A.T. for anyone wantin' to pursue medical. Called the R.A.T.s - Research and Application Tests. Supposed to help you figure out what branch you wanted to get involved with. Heh – heard they're as shit as the G.O.A.T.s."

James eyed the grave, judging it to be about 5 feet deep, and then threw the crappy shovel to the ground with a sad clang.

"I guess I'm still a kid in some ways - you weren't supposed to die. Not when I had finally found you, against all the odds. You should have been like...like the old Grognak the Barbarian comics, with him always comin' back, rising from the dead. Even when I saw that you were turning feral, I knew that you could fight it, and we could be together, at least for a little while. Just...damnit, you weren't supposed to die."

Benjamin's body didn't move, but James was sure he would have agreed - he wasn't supposed to have died. The fact that it had been by Leon's sword made it worse in the ranger's opinion, even compared with turning feral.

"And-" he let out a deep sigh, wiped some of the sweat off his forehead, dashed some tears from his eyes. "Damn it, again when you can't listen. I'm sorry Ben...I really thought we had more time."


	6. Tell Me More - Twig

**Tell Me More**

**Summary **– Penelope talks to Twig.

**Note **– Season 2, Episode 2 – sometime after Twig meets Ron but before James and Ben find the Lockre.

**Disclaimer **– I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series.

* * *

"So, Twig, I've told you mine, but what's your story?"

"Aww, you already know the basics Pen."

"Yeah, but I want to know the fascinating details." Penelope looked up at him, smiling, and Twig caved like a Fancy Lad snack cake soaked with Nuka Cola, which always tasted better than it sounded.

"Well," Twig began, "all of this started because I needed a break, and by all of this I guess I mean my life." He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "I didn't have much of one in the vault."

"A break though? From what?"

"A break from the walls. A break from the bullying, which was getting worse and worse - before I left I swear I heard Lard, his name is really Lars, mention that I was polluting the gene pool. Later that night, I had a dream. A dream that I had found the perfect Nuka Break. It was just me, sitting on a bench near a lake, with a bucket of ice cold Nuka Colas recently taken from a vending machine. Perfection. Maybe there was even a Quartz or a Victory."

"You and your Nuka." Penelope rolled her eyes and shook her head, still grinning.

"And with that I set out from the vault, only taking a few bottles with me. My perfect break would have plenty of Nuka, and I'm sure I could find it close by."

"And that was your first time in the Wasteland?"

"Yeah - and I was seriously under prepared with just a pistol, a little extra ammo and my skills. Thankfully, my Pip-Boy helped me out with shooting...I don't think I would have survived those first few days without it, and I know I wouldn't have survived beyond those days without Ben."

"So how did you meet Ben? Did he rescue you, like you guys rescued Scar?"

"No..." Twig laughed a bit. "That was different. Really different." He had a faraway look on his face as he thought about their rescue of Scar but then returned to Pen's question. "I had stumbled onto a Super Duper Mart, down to my last two bullets and starving. I mean, this exploring thing was hard work. Ripping into some Fancy Lad cakes, I was wolfing them down when I met Ben - and then screamed, spraying him in the face with half eaten cake."

"Seriously!?" Penelope laughed and nudged Twig. "I can't imagine what I would do...what was his reaction?"

"He screamed back. Yelled something about assholes and Smoothskins. I was a little busy trying to get to my pistol to really listen."

"Was he your first Ghoul?"

"Yes and no. First non-feral Ghoul, but I didn't know that, so when he knocked the gun from my hand, I started begging him not to eat me."

"And?"

"He just looked at me, with this long, sad look." Twig shrugged his shoulders. "Then he asked me where I was going."

"Where were you going?"

"I didn't have any particular place. I just wanted peace, quiet, and Nuka. When I told him that, he said he didn't have anything better to do than to go on some fool's quest."

"Did you find a break with Ben?"

"Ha!" Twig exploded. "Not even close! And when Scar joined us, it got even worse."

"How so?"

"I was always the decoy when we were getting shot. Fat Man's Charge, Dead Man's Fate, Chunky Suicide Bomber - they had all these different names but it was always me being shot at. Ben even said he didn't care, that two surviving out of three were good odds."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Pen immediately consoled.

"Said he didn't care." grumbled Twig.

"And they picked you because you're so cute." Gushed Pen. "Most people would shoot a Ghoul on site and from what you've told me about Scar, her tongue's a little on the abrasive side."

"True." Twig thought about it, and a big grin come over his face. "They really did need me to do that, didn't they? All those times."

"Yep. And since you're all still alive, it shows what a good choice that was."

"But I don't know if they're still alive." Complained Twig, thinking sadly about his missing friends. "I don't even know where Ben and that Ranger are - at least I know Leon isn't gonna kill Scar."

"But you do know they're not dead." Said Penelope.

"No...?" Twig looked at the blonde in the confusion.

"I didn't explain that right." Pen thought for a moment, taking her pencil out of her pocket and writing on the air. "I meant, you have no knowledge of their death, so you should be hopeful."

"Oh." Twig smiled again, a big beaming one that mirrored on the blonde's face. "Yeah, that makes sense. I can do that."

"And I can help." Offered Penelope, taking Twig's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks Pen..that helps a lot, already."


	7. Ghouls 'n' Names - Larry

**Ghouls and Names**

**Summary** – Scarlett asks a surprising question, and Larry gives a surprising answer.

**Note** – After Season 2 Episode 6

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"I've gotta question Larry." Scarlett's voice broke the thick desert air, gathering the attention of their entire traveling group.

"Yeah?" The ghoul in question squinted over at her, the desert sun in his eyes. "Shoot."

"I'd be careful with that phrase." Interjected the Ranger warningly, his fingers touching his gun in its holster as he stopped to stare at the yellow ghoul. "Someone might take you up on it."

"I wouldn't." Twig immediately volunteered, and Larry looked around at the rest of his traveling companions - Scarlett's poker face, James in his unreadable helmet, and Bonnie with very little sympathy in her eyes.

"Right." Larry bobbed his head, scratching at the back of his neck. "Noted." He had wondered if the Ranger blamed him for Ben's death, and with this recent reaction...

"Anyhow," continued Scar, "what's the deal with you and names?"

"Huh?" Well, this was not the question he was expecting. Something like 'what do you remember?' was usually the first question, after a scream for the first sound.

"You used Ben when you ambushed us, and then you said Benj when he..." Scarlett trailed off, her voice choking up for a bit.

"It's a ghoul thing." Larry said quickly, trying to back pedal from the none too distant memories. If that...incident...was indeed making the Ranger twitchy, it would be best to change the subject, and quickly.

"Really? How so?" Asked Twig, looking genuinely interested.

"Names are important to ghouls." Said Larry, moving closer to the vault dweller. Maybe some of Twig's luck would rub off on him. "They say what we're thinkin', what we're feelin'."

"So, when you attacked us..." Twig trailed off, not quite sure on the emotion. "It wasn't about the money?"

"Oh, it was." Reassured Larry.

"Thanks." Muttered Scar.

"But I got angry 'cause Benjy was siding with pets instead of an old buddy."

"Pets?" Echoed three voices in various tones. Bonnie had remained silent.

"Uh - Smoothskins." Larry quickly backpedaled, trying to take back what he had just said.

"No, you said 'pets'." James helpfully reminded, removing his helmet to watching the impending fireworks. From the look alone on Scarlett's face they were going to be great.

"Shit." Larry tugged nervously at his dusty jacket. "Look...it's just...you Smoothskins don't live as long as us, that's all. Nuthin' to it."

"I am NOT someone's pet." Growled Scarlett, her hands clenching. Larry was suddenly very happy that she didn't have her energy gun.

"Neither am I." Added James. And while she didn't have her energy gun, he still had all of his weapons.

Then, as he thought about their reactions, something in Larry snapped and he turned to them, his white eyes looking at each of theirs in turn - colorful, unclouded; skin unbroken and whole.

"And what do you call us? Burn bags." He saw Scarlett squirm a little at that dig. "Zombies. Ghoul itself isn't exactly a great name, now is it?"

"He's got a point." Bonnie chimed in. "Leon called them 'people too dumb to know they're dead'."

"See?"

"So you were angry at Ben, and that's why you called him Ben." Recapped Twig. "But why not call him Ben from the beginning?"

"'Cause when I first met him, he was going by Benjy. We both shed most of our names then. Something about the Stables doesn't make you want your full name out and about."

"What about if a ghoul doesn't call you by name?" Asked James, thinking about the short time he and Ben had had together. 'James' had been used exactly twice; once when he was in the infirmary and the second time right before Ben died.

"Like what?"

"Like 'kid', or a nickname of the person's name."

"Somethin' like Jimmy or Jimbo?"

The Ranger twitched ever so slightly.

"As an example, sure."

Larry gave an inward chuckle. The big, bad Ranger might be able to hide his thoughts from the others, but to a ghoul with plenty of years and people for practice, heh. Easy peasy. It was kinda cute - the kid was worried about how Ben had thought of him.

"Depends. If they use that all the time, then they're comfortable with you. If it was used once or twice, then they'd be angry at you or somethin' you did."

James looked like he was mulling on that thought, and Larry decided he was going to push a little bit more - possibly not his best idea, but he had lived through worse ones.

"If you were the Jimmy being talked about - just if," soothed Larry, holding up his hands placatingly as James tensed up. "I'm not saying it was, just if."

Scarlett snorted off to the side, sharing a glance with Bonnie as even Twig shook his head. Fine, so subtlety wasn't his strength.

"If that was you, he didn't ask you what you wanted. He would have called you nicknames in the beginning, but once he got to know you, you would have been James."

"But what about me?" Asked Twig. "He almost never called me my name."

Larry could already feel the daggers from Scar digging into his back. As much as she made fun of Twig, no one else had better do so.

"What's your name?"

"Twig."

"No, that's a name forced on you by others - he wouldn't have wanted to call a friend by that type of name." Larry scratched at his cap. "We get enough of that type of shit." He muttered as an afterthought.

"And what was I? A gecko? Ben had no problem calling me Scar." Scarlett stood still, one hand on her hip, letting the others pass her.

"Yours is part of your name. And you like it."

"And me?" Larry came back to the Ranger.

"Honestly, he would have called you anything that makes you twitch. And saved your name for the important times."

"Really?" There was a heap of skepticism in that glance. More than a heap, an ant mound.

"Yeah, really. You were the son he never had."

"He had a son."

"Fine, the one he never got to raise then. Besides, watching someone with a large stick up their ass twitch is always amusing."

"Wha-?"

Larry smirked as the others laughed. "Like that."

"Are all ghouls pricks, or just you and Ben?" snapped James, squeezing at the bridge of his nose.

"Hang around, see stupidity for more than a hundred years and let's see what you become." Larry shot back.

"Don't bother." Scar added, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "It's in his blood. Right Jimbo?"

James groaned.


	8. Acid Words - James

**Acid Words**

**Summary** – James and Scarlett talk about something important...words.

**Note** – After Season 2 Episode 6

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"Damn it." I cursed and tore my helmet off, the sand scratching my throat as I sucked in the unfiltered desert air. It didn't help - I still felt sick to my stomach, and this time it wasn't 'cause I had been poisoned by a bald inbred asshole.

"James?"

"You okay buddy?"

"Fine." I said curtly, stopping in my tacks. Didn't really matter much since I was covering our rear. "Keep goin', I'll catch up in a minute." _Or five._

"But James..."

"Go on." Added Scarlett, shooing Twig as he hesitated. She at least waited until he had disappeared over our current sand dune, joining up with Larry and Bonnie, before coming over to me.

"And you - what's wrong?"

"Ever wish you could take back words?" I asked bitterly, staring into her eyes. Their pure brown did the opposite of what I wanted and made me think of another pair, but ones almost pure white.

"This reaction is about words?"

The look on my face must have convinced her that it was more than it seemed since she frowned, actually thinking about what I had asked.

"Yeah, I have. But words are words - you just have to get over it."

_Heh - words are words. Except these were made of acid and were etching themselves into my brain._

"When Twig said he couldn't come to rescue you, I said I was 'bringin' hell with me when I return.'- but it wasn't just me. Two of us went to get you, and..."

"Ben." Scarlett's breath was a like the whisper of a lash.

"Those words shouldn't have been part of it. 'I' and 'me'. There were two of us."

"You didn't mean it." She tried to argue, seeing now what words I meant.

"And then," I added bitterly, interrupting. "Then I told him he was all that mattered, the only family that I had left. After I had...had already written him off. The only good thing is that he never heard the first part."

She winced, putting a hand on my shoulder to comfort me, but it felt trapping, heavy - I shrugged it off.

"Look, you're not the only one."

I cocked my head at her, and she let out a large sigh.

"I regret something I said too. Bonnie and Larry heard it."

I looked at her. "Ron, Twig, and Penelope - but they haven't mentioned anything."

"They won't. I'm more concerned about Larry."

"Fair enough."

Silence stretched between us, and I was the one that finally broke it.

"What was it?"

"I said that no one else would die because of me...and then I was overjoyed when Ben tackled Daniels."

"...he would have been happy to know that..." I finally muttered after a few minutes, hearing slight sniffles and watching Scar wipe at her eyes.

"And he knows you would have died protecting him." She finally said, after the tears. "That's why he gave you an order. It was him protecting you too."

"I know." The words dropped out of my mouth like stones. "I knew it when he ordered me. I still feel like I failed him, like I caused his death, thinkin' the way I did earlier."

"It's not your fault."

"Not yours either."

"It doesn't stop it though, does it? Knowing we're not at fault."

"Stop the pain of losin' him, the pain of 'what ifs' echoin' in our heads?" I looked at her and saw the same truth written on her face. "No. They'll never stop."

"Come on then." She shouldered her weapon, nodding her head in the direction we were wandering in this time, trying to find Bonnie's home. "First round of drinks at the next bar are on me. We might not be able to stop them, but we can drown them out for a but."

"...at least until it doesn't hurt as much." I agreed, through I honestly had doubts. I had the feeling that this was going to be something haunting me for a long time.


	9. Promises - Penelope

**Subject A**

**Summary** – Penelope and Ben have a quick talk.

**Note** – Season 2 Between Episodes 4 and 5.

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

A ghoul has come to the Lockre today, agreeing to answer my questions and take some tests in exchange for the medical aid already promised to his companion. Let it be known, with these written words, that I have agreed that whatever difference there might be after these tests will be given to either him or his companion in the form of caps.

Name: Benjamin Eldridge: also Ben, Benjy, Ridge, Dirge and B.  
Age: Unknown, approximately late twenties early thirties when the bombs dropped. Currently over 200 years old.  
Area - near vault 7

Current Physical Wellness - exhausted, body stiff all over from previous fights / injuries. Can not see at night or very well in low light areas. Holds himself tight and gives an impression of stiltedness.

Self Diagnosed Condition - turning feral. (Upon uttering this Subject A immediately went to reassure me that he was not going to go feral in here). When I showed him the pistol I keep nearby and placed it on my desk, he visibly relaxed and stopped talking about turning.

Symptoms - longer and longer gaps of lost memories. Admits he forgot where Eastwood was (this information is not to be told to his party members, especially to a Ms. R) and briefly attacked his companions after believing himself to be in another time and place. Quicker to get angry, though he believes this to be a combination of quote "getting sick of morons" and going feral. Hallucinating more frequently.

"It's like I'm trying to catch my breath, but with my brain."

I looked up from where I was frantically scribbling with my pencil, trying to make my smile more sympathetic than scientific, but this information was gold and I wasn't sure when another willing ghoul would come to my area. Discreetly, I managed to thumb on our only working holodisk recorder before asking the question that was burning on my tongue.

"What about radiation? That heals ghouls, right?"

Ben shook his head from side to side.

"Going feral is tied to different factors. First, companionship. Ghouls without companions are more likely to turn and do so quicker. Second, how damaged our body gets. It's like making a copy of a copy of a copy. Third, age - although if the first two things are addressed, it's not really a problem. And of course, too much radiation in a blast can make you both feral and ghoul at the same time."

"Why do ghouls still go feral then? If this information is known?"

He gave a long, drawn out sigh.

"Look, this wasn't always around and not everyone knows it, even now. And some just got lucky from the beginning."

I tilted my head and he rolled his eyes.

"Smoothskins." He muttered, pulling out a cigarette. "Promise me something."

"This is a clinic." I informed him sternly, as if he didn't already know that. "No smoking allowed."

He nodded, but kept it out, tapping and fiddling with it nervously. "Promise me that whatever we talk about here, you'll keep it secret."

"Of course. Doctor–Patient-"

"-I'm not talking confidentiality," he snapped, interrupting me. "I'm saying that you'll never talk about any of this to anyone ever."

"If it's that impor-"

"It is."

"I promise then."

"Do you know Megaton?" He abruptly asked, the cigarette stabbed into the air, wrenching the topic down a new direction.

"My trading group went there twice, but it's been a long time since."

"There's a ghoul there, by the name of Gob. 'Works' (the harshness of his voice deepened at this word) for a bastard of a Smoothskin. Heard rumors that the sack of shit died, murdered by a friend of Gob's, but that might be too much to hope for. That ghoul doesn't have the luck for friends, especially for friends nice enough to kill his boss. Anyway." He shook his head. "Gob **is** a lucky one, personal grievances aside. Works in a saloon, deals with the dregs of humanity everyday, and it acts kinda like an immunity to going feral. His mom too, he told me she was in Underworld - both of them are surrounded by others and both of them are from the first nukes."

I must have made a noise or movement because his mouth quirked into a smirk.

"No, they're not really family, so don't get your scientific hopes up. Although," he added, eyes seeming to travel back, "I'd never say that to them. If you ever travel up to the Capital Wasteland again, go find Carol at Underworld. She's always willing to talk about that day. No problems with her god-damn memory."

"Is yours that bad?"

He looked at me, and it seemed like all emotion just...left him.

"The most important person in my life is fading, and nothing I can do stops it. One day, I'll look at my ring and wonder why I have it. If **I'm** lucky, I won't know what I'm missing - but I don't think anyone's that lucky."

He looked at me, and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

"Is there a quiet place to smoke, someplace high in these ruins, or are all the stairs broken?"

I nodded, not able to talk around the growing lump in my throat. _Can ghouls cry, or was__ that taken from them too?_

"Sure-" the words came out choked and I swallowed. "Sure Ben. I'll show you the best spot."

"Remember your promise."

"I will." _I pro__mise I'll never speak of your feelings to anyone, showing your sadness. I'll never tell anyone your strength or your courage. For better or for worse, I'll keep my promise, Benjamin Eldridge._


	10. Déjà Vu - Ron

**Déjà Vu**

**Summary **– Ron, a Paladin, has seen a ghoul go feral before, but what exactly tips him off about Ben? A little back-story for the ghoul ghost in Ron's life.

**Note **– Season 2, Episode 5 - as James, Penelope, Ron, and Twig are talking about rescuing Scar

**Disclaimer **– I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series.

* * *

Body held tightly together, limited range of movement - check.

Thicker than normal white covering all of the eyes - check.

Quick head movement to reassure himself of where he was and who he was with - check.

Two weeks. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less, but two weeks was what Ron would give the ghoul. If nothing else happened to shatter body and soul between now and then.

The Ranger seemed more optimistic, but Ron, Ron had seen it all before...before the the Brotherhood, before the Legion came this far, before loss of family drove him to the Lockre.

_A reddish tinged man with a perpetual smile, always carrying a well mended knapsack with him, nestling fragments of dreams inside - I could remember my first ghoul, and that ghoul's story, very very clearly._

_Gerald. Gerald McSimmons. Who had just left his hometown when the bombs hit, smashed to the ground by the shockwave before he could register shock and surprise, let alone go back and check on his family. By the time he crawled back to his burning house, hours later, there had only been charred skeletons in the front yard, one bigger one holding two scorched metal lunch boxes, with a fire hardened baseball bat and broken chess set between two smaller skeletons._

_One day to dig a grave for them, two days before he got hungry, and three days before he was willing to admit he had to leave...for sanity's sake at least. That's all it took to leave a whole life behind. Gerald picked over his house, and the Thompson's place next door before leaving, a knapsack half full of water and food, half full of memories._

_Gerald started a pattern when traveling - scout, stay, set off. The ghoul didn't really want to talk to anybody in the first several years anyway. Afterwards, when new communities sprouted up from the ashes, he started tale weaving, becoming a bard and telling stories about Before in exchange for a few nights shelter._

_A hundred and twenty odd years of this brought him back to my village for a third time, where a rebelling 14 year old was trying to convince the mayor that technology wasn't evil, it could be used for good._

_Needless to say, nothing would convince the old, entrenched mayor, and nothing could change my mind since I knew I was right and he was wrong - stubbornness ran as broad and wide as the old Mississippi in our family._

_So Gerald had stepped in with a proposition. He would escort me to a Brotherhood post, for a modest fee of course, since the nearest outpost was over a week's travel in the best of conditions._

_Those first few days were glorious - freed from Brahmin, freed from oppression - I had been beyond happy. Gerald...not so much. About halfway through the week I started noticing things, small things, that didn't feel right. Small twitches from the ghoul, a stiffness, hallucinations late at night, loving whispers to the ghosts gathered around our smoldering campfire._

_Which was a mistake - who lit campfires at night in the wastelands? Slavers, that's who. The attack came when Gerald was crooning to his sons and I had wrapped a tattered blanket around myself, wishing to disappear, or at least be invisible. Gerald had screeched, the sound transformed into electricity along my nerves. One enraged ghoul against four slavers was a joke. When the gentle ghoul looked at me, blood dripping from his hands while tears streamed from his eyes, my throat had closed up tight._

_"Run...west." Gerald groaned, his voice raspier and lower than mere hours before. "One day...near...bridge."_

_"You-"_

_"-leave!" Screamed Gerald, a hint of that earlier screech trailing the end of the word. I turned and ran, stumbling, not stopping, running scared for about half a day, later surprising a returning Brotherhood patrol who had immediately turned out again after I gasped out my story. I showed them to the campfire, hoping they could help Gerald; the rotting bodies of slavers hadn't bothered us, but when we found Gerald...who had lost the remaining shred of his mind...that sight would be forever imprinted on my soul. The Brotherhood made short work of him, and I had quietly taken the ghoul's knapsack with me, claiming it as my own._

_No one had mourned, no one had cared except for one 14 year-old boy. And what was I against the world?_

Jame-the Ranger wanted to bring the ghoul with him? Fine. With any luck it would turn out there, kill Leon, and leave his people alone. Ghouls, and technology, always complicate a simple, satisfying life.


	11. Trust Me - James

**Trust Me **

****Summary**** – Scar and James have a little...chat...about Ben's sacrifice.

****Note**** – AU – after Season 2

**Warning**: some cursing

****Disclaimer**** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"Look Scar, I know you don't want to talk about it, but I-we need to."

"What are you goin' do then?" She snarled at me, pacing in the tight quarters. "Hold me back again? Pin me down so I'll listen?"

"He told me to!"

"And it's not going to change anything; that Ben died because he was going feral. The real Ben, the Ben I traveled with, he wouldn't have killed himself like a fucking moron!"

Both of us knew this fight had been spoiling for a while. First, emotions always flared while traveling the Wasteland, which was why Larry was Twig's and Bonnie's new shadow. Second, the numbness was finally wearing off of Ben's death and it was starting to hurt. A lot. I eyed Scarlett and figured the emotional pain might be joined with some physical pain in the near future. It just wasn't yet decided for who - I wasn't going to hurt family just as sure as I didn't want to be a punching bag.

"He told me to." I repeated, tossing my helmet onto an empty bunk. 4 beds at the local shit hotel had been cheap enough. _Let's see, where should the others be...Twig seeking Nuka, well, that was a certainty, Bonnie was either for asking around after information, or possibly grabbing some food, and Larry...well, Larry was causing trouble that would bite us tomorrow morning, no doubt about it. Ass early too if previous towns had been anything to go on._

"And do you feel good about that, asshole?!" Scarlett spun around, striding across the room and punched me in the jaw - or at least tried to. I, still having no interest in being a mobile punching bag, simply slid to the side. "Congrats, you were following orders, you're not guilty, we're done, conversation over."

"He was TURNing feral-" I tried again. My hand shot out at top speed and the force sent Scarlett's new handgun to the floor with a clatter. "Muzzle discipline dammit! Ben was TURNING feral! He-"

"Oi!" There was a shout outside their door, followed by pounding. "Shut the fuck up or takkit out!"

"Mind your own damn business!" Scarlett yelled back. There was a distinct clicking sound and I rolled his eyes. _Of fucking course_.

"We're going, you can put your safety back on." I snapped, snatching my helmet and snapping it on before grabbing Scarlett's slender wrist. "Where's a place to talk around here?"

"If yall're gonna chat like decent folks, Diner. If slugin' and yellin', Bar."

"Bar." Scar said curtly.

"Fine." I bit off.

The two of us passed the old man and his trembling shotgun in the hallway, my shoulder blades twitching as he turned _with the damn shotgun!_ to see us off. In a town of three places, it wasn't hard to find, we just followed the the sounds of horrible singing, drunken slurs, and shouts of cheating. _I should probably keep Sacr away from the card sharks_.

"You're going to drink one of these and then we'll talk." I ordered, slamming two lukewarm beers in front of us. Scarlett gave me a killing look and popped the top off, drinking in one long gulp about half the bottle.

"You know-"

"-he was going feral, yes, I know. If you remember, I was the one he choked."

"But he wasn't feral at the end." I said it in a rush and saw Scar's eyes narrow.

"What does that mean?" She asked in a low voice. "That he would have been fine?! That he did it for nothing?!"

"No."

"Quit playing with words, Jimmy." There was disgust dripping off the word. _Fucking nicknames_.

"Do you remember that sound...?"

"After Ben grabbed my throat?" Scar took a pull of her bottle. "My nightmares remember it very damn well thank you."

"He was feral then."

"And...?" Scar made a continue on motion. "Your point?"

"He didn't do that before he died." I said bluntly, crossing my arms. "His choice, his decision, his actions to save us- they were 100% him."

"No, they weren't." Scar said bluntly.

"What's your problem?!"

"My problem? I don't have a problem, I have reality. I've thought about it long and hard - the asshole I knew, and liked," she added quickly, "he was a friend – but he wouldn't have sacrificed himself. Hell, he had a rifle before and didn't even try to help us out of ambush!"

"That wasn't him!" I shouted, open palms striking the sticky table. I dimly heard bets being placed on myself and Scar. "The Ben I know left a place in the fucking Vaults and faced a nuclear explosion to save his wife!"

"I'm not his wife!" Scarlett screamed back, acing me across the table. "And it fuckin' was him 'cause he did it!"

"Fuckin' distustin', talkin' 'bout fuckin' ghouls." Muttered a voice nearby and I saw red. Without even thinking about it, my fist drew back and I twisted my torso as I let it go, connecting with a punch solid enough for a Rad Scorpion. The asshole dropped to the ground, not even moaning. _That __felt great. Oh hey, bonus points for the pile of puke._

"James," Scarlett said as she eyed the people around us getting to their feet. No one was taking bets anymore..._apparently the bigoted asshole has friends, although they're stepping right over the unconscious moron._ _Maybe they're just spoilin' for a fight_. "Did I ever tell you that you're an idiot?"

"Many times."

"Did you ever think I was right?" She ducked a swing and gave a sharp elbow back.

"Many times." I blocked a knife thrust with my vambraces and chucked my wobbly stool in a general direction – it didn't matter to me as long as I didn't hit Scar.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I know." A feral smile lit up my face; _not like anyone can see it from behind my helmet_. "Family trait."

"Look James," She started, grabbing her forgotten beer and gulping the last of it. Then she smashed the bottom of the bottle on the edge of the table, flipping it for a more comfortable hold. "Ben had no reason to do that, other than he didn't want to turn feral and this was one last spit in life's eye."

"One word." I protested, losing wind as someone knocked me down from behind - it wheezed out anyway as I hit the diseased floor. "Family."

"That word doesn't magically solve anything." Scar was nice enough to kick a man before his foot connected with my ribs.

"Ask Larry what he'd do if he had family." Rolling away from several feet, I got back up, back to back with Scar as we faced the room. At least no one had pulled a gun yet.

"Sell them."

"I think you'd be surprised."

"Depends on the caps I guess. So what was Twig then?" Scar slashed at a man twice her size, and he had enough brain cells to think twice about attacking her. Attacking me, not so much.

"Not family." I grunted, vision doubling slightly from a lucky head shot._ Hooray for helmets_. "I honestly think you reminded him of Clem, at least close enough to be a daughter. It would explain why he was so protective of you when I appeared. Twig had no such connection - Ben didn't know he had a son."

"Clem?"

"His wife."

A pause, then a shrug. I thought I could detect a hint of tears in her eyes, but those could have been just as easily caused by the smell of rotting trash, stale piss, and over-fermented beer. A cyber-dog would have loved this place.

"Whelp. You'd know." She finally said, shrugging. _It's not like we can ask him to confirm or deny it either. _A last imbecile charged us.

"You weren't some last 'fuck you' to the world from a dying ghoul." I reassured her, ducking a fist and giving a punch in return. "Trust me."


	12. Factions, Armor, and Tactics - Twig

**Factions, Armor, and Tactics**

**Summary** – Twig wants to know about James's armor.

**Note** – AU; after Season 2

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"So, James-"

The Ranger looked away from the mountain at Twig's voice, turning to focus on the vault dweller.

"-where'd you learn all that cool stuff? You know, the flipping Ben, catching my blade on your arm guards, shooting my sword?" Puffing slightly after reenacting their first meet up, Twig projected his questioning puppy eyes at the normally quieter man, ready to plead for the answer to awesomeness that was surprisingly forthcoming.

"I was a tracker in the Rangers."

"What?!" Twig stopped, his mouth opened wide enough to swallow a sand dune or two. "But...Ron said you weren't a Ranger! Which was good, I guess," he added, mumbling a little, "...'cause he kinda hates the NCR."

"I'm not a Ranger." Agreed James, dismissing the following echo of 'I'm not a ghoul' from his head. He took off his helmet, tucking it under an arm."I was, I got out, and here I am."

Scarlett wandered over, giving James a quizzical look.

"I didn't think that you could just walk off with NCR armor? Hell, I didn't think you could leave."

"I told the quartermaster I lost it." James and Scarlett shared a grin. "Only started wearin' it again when I was far enough away. After the enemies I made workin' for the NCR, least they could do was let me have it. And people do leave, just...normally in caskets."

"Being a Ranger sounds awesome though, besides the whole casket thing." Interjected Twig. "Why'd you quit?"

"Why does anyone stop doing what they like?" Mused James, giving a quick scan of the empty area around them.

"Money."

"No choice."

"They found something else?"

"It stopped being fun."

"Pretty much all of those reasons."

"So that's **your** armor then, and no one else's?"

James looked over at Twig, eyebrows raised at the extra stress on 'your'.

"Yes..." He drawled out slowly.

"What's your deal?" Asked Scarlett, looking over at Twig. "He said it was his armor."

"But he also said someone else was wearing it when he went into that den looking for Ben...so that mean's it's not his. Right?"

James stopped to light a cigarette, squinting to eye the sun's position.

"I wasn't lookin' for Ben there, I was lookin' for information **about** Ben - big difference. And there's a reason for not wearin' it. Have you ever heard the expression, 'don't kill the messenger?'"

Larry and Scar nodded while Bonnie and Twig shared a confused look.

"Rangers are NCR, right? Or at least they've been NCR for a long enough time to get the good armor."

"Right." Twig nodded. He definitely knew that.

"Then why the hell would I walk into a hangout full of thieves, murderers and slavers wearin' NCR armor?"James asked, shaking his head and smirking at the thought while Scarlett laughed outright. "It's a giant lit up sign sayin' 'please, shoot me now, I'll even stand still for you.'"

"So you gave it to your enemy?" Twig scratched his head. "That...still doesn't make a lot of sense."

"I didn't exactly give it to them. I knew I was gonna get it back. I left it on the path in front of them, got there first and then took it back by pretendin' to steal it, after I got the information I needed. If they hadn't takin' it, I would've gone back and picked it up."

"Oh." Twig nodded. "But..."

"What?"

"But you might not have gotten it back."

"It's my armor." came the patient explanation. "I would have gotten it back."

"What if the guy didn't want to give it up or something." Twig persisted.

"Again, it's my armor, not his." James said easily, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, and then dragging on it hard. "The only choice in the matter was if he was willin' to die for armor he just found. Most people aren't."

"And him?" Gulped Twig.

"He wasn't most people." James stated, accompanying the words with a steady stream of smoke.

"Right..."

"So, anymore questions?"

"Nope." Twig waved his hands and shook his head. "I'm good, nothin' else."

Larry snickered at the Vaultie's expression, and Scar laughed again; James too had to give a little smirk. Bonnie said nothing and hid her face, but shaking shoulders gave her away.

"With you here Twig, there's hope for the rest of us yet." The Ranger softened his expression, smiling at his trav- his friend. "Honestly, it's good there's still people like you around."

Twig opened his mouth to say something, then simply returned the grin...until Scar started telling James what Ben's response had been to Twig stealing the shishkabab**.**


	13. Just as Human - Penelope

**Just as Human**

**Summary** – After interviewing Ben, now it's Larry's turn in the hot seat with Penelope.

**Note** – After Season 2 Episode 6 (underlined means it's written)

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

A second Ghoul (in less than a week!) has come to the Lockre. While he was at first not interested in answering my questions and taking some tests, his companions threat-convinced him to help while they recovered their from the battle against crazy Leon.

Name: Lawrence Synder, aka Larry, Lar (extremely disliked) and L.  
Age: 186, "give or take a few"  
Area - the Las Vegas region

Current Wellness - two gunshot wounds in the right leg (one upper thigh and one lower calf), body stiff from previous fights. Has no memory problems.

When asked about his possibility of his going feral, like Subject A, he grew a little quiet, but then laughed it off.

* * *

Feeling a sense of déjà view brewing, I flicked on the holodisk reorder, thankful I had found some empty ones earlier to replace the last disk Ben and I had used.

"Nah, not me. And heh, not for a while yet." Larry leaned back in the chair, bouncing and jiggling it with his feet.

"You seem awfully sure for something that's not 100%." I said, pausing in my journal and looking up.

"I'm not the loner type. Well, yeah, I am, but not the 'loner living without society type'. They're most likely." Bounce, bounce - he really couldn't keep still, and I wasn't sure if it was a characteristic of his or nervousness of me.

"How would you explain Ben then?"

Larry gave me a flat look, his smirkish smile vanishing.

"He traveled with companions." I pointed out, my pencil seeming to make its own point in the air. "That doesn't seen very loner like."

"Benjy...Ben had his own problems." He began slowly, almost as if he was tasting the words, or trying to recall a very old memory. "New Reno, there was a bunch of us ghouls, me an' Benjy an' others. Even then, he was changing."

"Going feral?"

"Maybe...dunno if it was feral." A shrug, and he went back to bouncing. If I wouldn't have tattered my Hippocratic Oath, I could've happily borrowed Raz's nail gun and shot his feet to the floor. I shook my head to get rid of the disturbing image and to bring myself back to the questions I wanted to ask.

"How was he changing?"

"He seemed...finished. Done. Given up." The yellow ghoul shrugged, unable to put it further into words, and the two of us fell into an uncomfortable silence. He actually stopped rocking the chair.

"If you're done with me-" he began, starting to get up.

"Nonononono!" I yelped, dropping my pencil, "this is fascinating, I still have more questions for you."

"Then ask 'em." Larry said bluntly, dropping back down heavily. Hmm, maybe it wasn't me he was nervous about, maybe it was my position.

"What do you think of ghouls?" I snatched another pencil from my desk drawer as the words fell out of my mouth.

"That we're just as human." He said flatly, staring at me with white eyes. I flushed as I realized what I had sounded like.

"Sorry, that's not-sorry." I took a deep breath, willing the heat and crimson away from my face. My smile grew brighter to make up for my mistake. "I meant, what do you think about being a ghoul? Personally."

"Personally?" His gravelly voice trailed off and his eyes seemed to bore into mine. Then Larry smirked. "It's...fascinating."

I started as he used that word; it sounded...very strange coming from him.

"Not sure if I'm remembering this correctly Smoothskin," he began to explain, "but it's like that Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." You live right as a ghoul, it's certainly not boring."

"Live right?" I yelped. "You peddle Jet! You poison people for a living!"

"People gotta buy it from someone." He immediately growled. "I just make sure my hand's the one the caps land in."

"But you all have such a unique viewpoint." I argued, part of me wincing as my objectivity flew out the window. "A long term view that if used properly, could be a thriving community! An example for the rest of us!"

"You forgot what I said."scoffed Larry. "We're just as human, in all the good and the bad." Was that a hint of sadness in his voice? "Show me a group of humans, ghoul or Smoothskin, with no problems, and I'll start planning that community myself."

He creaked as he got up from the chair, bones popping, leaving my clinic without hesitation as my mouth gaped open like a gecko's.

"Lawrence! Larry! Get back here! I'm not done!"

His voice floated back along the rusting corridor.

"I am."


	14. When Idiots Attack - Scar

**When Idiots Att****ack**

**Summary** – What happened when Twig left to get a weapon.

**Note** – Season 1 Episode 5: after Twig runs away and just as he gets back

**Warning -** moderate cursing

**Disclaimer** – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

Amidst the hot air several punches marred the air, an almost silent, desperate scuffling going on in front of the hot, dusty caves that, although lacking giant mutant robots, certainly contained giant, mutated creatures. Which were currently staying away from the fighting. Since they were smart.

"Hey, I care. I asked about your arm, didn't I?" Ben said, trying to mitigate his earlier confession that he was surprised he hadn't left first.

"No, you didn't actually!" Snapped Scarlett, _and damn it it hurts!_ punctuating the words with a painful uppercut to the goon attacking her. She turned to get another when she heard Ben cry out, something (probably him) dropping heavily to the ground behind her. _Shit!_

Three on one...then arms caught her from behind, dragging her, throwing her next to Ben, flat on her back like a Mirelurk. _Double Shit!_

"You ok?" Scar asked, seeing and not liking his pain deadened eyes. _The__ fire's burning by no one's home..._

"Peachy." Ben groaned. It hadn't been so long since someone had gotten the jump on him back when he had helped free Scarlett, and since his body just kept aching...all the time now...

"Not so bad ass now, are ya?" Jeered one of Larry's goons. Scar glared at him, and decided to nickname the blonde asshole. _Gecko Brain; reasonable to assume that the creatures outmatch him in both smarts and beauty._ She turned back to her companion.

"Ben?" _Com__'on, don't give up now!_

The ghoul in question ignored her, focusing his attention on the one moron wearing a bandanna, shooting to a crouching position, and screeched.

_I__t actually worked! _Scar wanted to applaud Ben's performance; all three had immediately jumped back out of self preservation, leaving the two of them free to either run for the hills or to try and get the drop on their would be captors. Scar got up, tasting the sand heavy freedom of the Mojave, when the tallest guy, a brunette, frowned.

"That ain't a **real **ghoul's scream!" He declared, brandishing his knife and taking a few steps closer. "I've heard a real ghoul over at the power plant, and that ain't one. He's fakin'!"

_Triple Shit! One of them has two working brain cells._

Ben tried though; really, he did. Louder snarls, a half screech rising in this throat, shaping his hands claw-like. He feinted like a Deathclaw, quick and threatening.

The butt of his own shotgun cracked against his ghoul dropped again, this time not even moaning, lying limp on the rocky ground.

"Ben!" Shrieked Scar, running over to check on him-jackass number two, the one who had clunked him, _Cazador Shit _her brain supplied, grabbed her, pinning her arms together behind her and gripping her chin with a strong right hand. _Ugh! He smells like his last bath was__ before Eastwood was built._

"Let! Go!" Grunted Scar, twisting, turning, stomping; doing anything to get out of his grip, and away from his stench.

Gecko Brain dragged Ben up from the ground, claiming a long, drawn out moan of pain _Ben!_ with a smile. Roughly, he twisted both arms behind her friend and hooked into them, so he was half holding up/half pinning the ghoul in a vertical position. _An easy position to have the better balance_, _to keep him off balance _Scarlett noted pessimistically.

The last idiot, the one with the bandanna,_ Molerat Fucker,_ took out his knife and began playing with the necklace around Ben's neck, making a clack-clack-clack sounds as the blade ran over the chain. _Ignore it, ignore it ignore it! - if doesn't mean anything, it's not special, it's not important! _Scar bit her tongue hard to keep from ordering Molerat Fucker to stop. _Rem__ember, the__ best way to lose something in the Wasteland is to show attachment to it._ On the plus side, it also had the effect of waking Ben up a bit more by pissing him off, judging by tired struggles and tension-tight muscles. He was smart enough not to say anything about the necklace either. _Bet I know who he's going for first though..._

Rocky footsteps came closer, and Larry chortled.

_Piece of shit ghoul!_

Then freedom came puffing up with a sword, sliced straight through the gun pointed at the two of them, and said a single, welcoming word.

"Hey."

_Twig!?_


	15. Azure Writing - Ben

**Azure Pro****mise **

**Summary - **How exactly did James know to look for Ben? He was dead and gone, right?

**Notes** \- Pre-Season 1

**Disclaimer **– I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

"It may sound a bit strange, but I've been fallin' apart for 'bout a week now. Today's the deadest I've felt so far. Not sure if I'll get better. Not sure if the world'll get any better."

Raspy and low, the voice trails off in a sigh and the man shudders as he remembers; poisoned, toxic rust-clouds blooming like spring mushrooms. Trembles, slight movements underfoot that changed with sharp cracks, throwing everything around into a manic dance of death. And the ash...hopes, dreams, and futures scattered to the wind for thousands of lucky people, others left to drop and moulder in their final steps if not. He kept his mouth closed every time the wind kicked it, otherwise he could only think of himself as a cannibal. As for the screams, the curses, what he wanted most was for those unending assaults on his memory burned out, not burned in. Keeping his eyes closed didn't make it easier, it just combined the assault on the rest of his senses.

"I was by myself when the earth began to shake, in a small, long-ago place my father showed me that was always good for findin' arrowheads. Couldn't spit without hittin' one. Heh. That gave more courage than I'd thought it'd take, you know, being on my own. Made me happy for the first time since I left you."

He slipped his stolen paintbrush into his stolen paint, its azure color the promise of older days. Dead Days. Gone Days. Soon-to-be-Forgotten Days. A faint hope that he too, would not be soon-to-be-forgotten. Or maybe he was already-forgotten, and didn't know. Schrödinger's cat in man form.

"I seem to be doing okay for a dead guy. Moving around at least, even if it looks like I went through hell. And sure, I'll have to worry about food in a day or two, but there's no shortage."

Harsh laughter echoed around the empty parking lot, and he turned around, quickly eyeballing all the places someone, or something, could be hiding. **That** particular lesson had been quickly, and harshly, learned in the first few days.

"Well, there is a shortage of people, but by the laws of economics, that means there's a bounty of necessities."

Catching the drips on the side, he raised the sodden brush, glancing about at his possibilities. The door itself might be a good bet...or maybe, right before the control panel? Yes, that would be the best spot. Nobody would vandalize it trying to pry the place open. And good luck to them trying to force a Vault door open, they'd have to be super mutants or something.

Slowly, unconcerned with time and intent on legibility, he painted. Wrote. Made art with words and words of art, a shadowed Leonardo working on a similar devotion to a different God. A Goddess. A, no, **the** woman who had been the sun of his world, had made him laugh, made him smile, made him see every sparkle of life...who had made him cry, made him curse, made him see every mote of taint. She had been his everything, and now, he was her nothing.

He finished when it got dark. Darker, really, if he was being honest, what with the dust clouds. Not like there was anyone else to lie to. It wasn't done, but it had to be, so he signed his name at the bottom. Too many words would ruin it as surely as too few would. He opened a sealant, sprayed it across, tossed it away somewhere unseen. Then he left. Walked across roads and deserts, steel and and sand; walked through days, seasons, years, centuries. And every hour, every minute, every second possible, his heart remained behind, written on the wall in paint colored of another world.

* * *

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	16. Game Changer - James

****Game Changer****

**Summary – The**** Ranger's thoughts during Larry's first kidnapping attempt. **

**Notes - Season 1 Episode 4 &amp; 5**

**Disclaimer **– I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series (but I'm very happy to be a huge fan!)

* * *

Twig had nothing in his hands, his weapon holstered by his side. How had he survived the Wasteland for this long? Scarlett at least cradled her energy gun. The ghoul though, the object of his damn quest, was doing neither - blending in by simply standing still with his gun at his side, letting everyone else focus on Scarlett and Twig. Around them various weapons, melee and ranger, were pointed at their heads.

8 against 3. And James felt he couldn't act without at least one of the hostages dying or coming to harm. Waiting would have to be the game...but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It would at least force the ghoul to act. Do something. Anything. Hopefully.

There was something big with pinprick claws scratching around in his chest, but it certainly wasn't nerves. It wasn't the depressing thought that this would be yet another dead end, filled with stories about rings lost while traveling the desert, names changed for protection, and false claims of forgotten memories. Of reading whatever tells he gave away. It was impressive, the lengths some ghouls would go to to claim a family again. Impressive and sad.

A nod of approval as Scar took one out on her own - whether someone had taught her some very nice skills or she had picked them up on her own, those had been executed well. Sweat trickled down neck, and James removed his helmet to gulp down lukewarm water.

She had a gun now, replacing the laser pistol, and was pointing it at Larry's face. Which...didn't help in the long run.

"Damn." The hiss slipped out from between gritted teeth. "I really thought they'd be able to get away."

His eyes narrowed in both empathy for the pain of being shot and disbelief that the ghoul hadn't done anything yet. If this was really Benjamin, shouldn't he be protecting her? At least protesting or something? He was just standing there! Doing absolutely nothing! His teeth sunk down into his lips so his frustration didn't echo through the caverns.

He heard Larry screaming about Smoothskins and had to stifle a snort. Mutant, ghoul, human - you get what you pay for. And when you're a money grabbing skinflint, well, the results speak for themselves.

"What are you waiting for?" James urged quietly, his fists clenched. Was him information wrong again? "Come on! Go! Help your friends!"

Cliff whispered words had no affect. Nothing happened. The drama below him kept playing on and he gave a long, frustrated, drawn out sigh. Another fruitless dead end; this ghoul couldn't be Benjamin. Itchy fingers reached out to caress the rifle at his side; he could certainly help two, possibly all of them escape.

Scar choose that moment to take out the man who had shot her.

He sighted down the scope at the action, clucking his tongue in disappointment.

"Basic tactics. Take out the leader first, then go for revenge."

Now Twig had his arms raised, a show of harmlessness he didn't need. Scar had a gun on Larry and Larry had one on her. The ghoul was still standing there, acting like this was one of Three Dog's radio scripts.

"Dammit." Twig was lowering his weapon, urging Scar to do the same. That lowered the odds...maybe only the girl would get out alive. She seemed to have both the skills and spirit.

James blinked. And missed it, even though he'd be hoping for it. In the seconds after it had taken for Twig and Scar to drop their weapons to the ground, the ghoul had reacted, and he now had a shotgun point blank at the back of Larry's head.

A soft whistle settled the situation. James knew his strengths, but for someone to be that stealthy...that took years of practice. Decades or maybe even centuries.

"Maybe..." He muttered, giving the ghoul an reappraising look. It was possible...this might actually be the man he was looking for. It was a standoff, Benjamin against Larry, Larry's goons against his friends.

The ghouls exchanged a few words, and then suddenly Larry screamed out, demanding to know who had been covering Benjamin. A woman in the back raised her hand hesitantly, after being pointed at by the guy behind her. A few more words, then a blast as Larry killed her, quickly training his gun back on Ben's companions.

Mouths moved, but words went unheard; Larry turning his gun on an old friend took him by surprise. And he certainly wasn't expecting Benjamin to knock the shotgun back with the butt of his rifle, before Larry could pull the trigger.

"Heh." James couldn't help but chuckle. "5 against 3 now, and the game has changed. Let's see how this one plays out."

* * *

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